


19. sleep deprivation

by restmyheadatnightcontent



Series: febuwhump 2021 [19]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29559165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restmyheadatnightcontent/pseuds/restmyheadatnightcontent
Summary: He knows that perhaps he should sleep, that he would be much more use if he was less tired but as soon as he feels his eyelids droop, the words that he had read in the letter come barrelling back into his mind.I fear she does not have long.
Relationships: Essi Daven & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: febuwhump 2021 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2139954
Kudos: 20





	19. sleep deprivation

**Author's Note:**

> i've only just started reading the books and haven't read a little sacrifice yet but essi & jaskiers friendship seems so lovely and i wanted to have a go at writing it!

He bites back another yawn as he wipes the cloth across her brow again. He is absolutely exhausted, not having slept a wink since he had received the news. He had ridden hard and fast to Vizima and the innkeeper had directed him straight to Essi’s lodgings. Aside from relieving himself or summoning someone to fetch the healer, he hasn’t left her side since he arrived.

He had prayed, when he heard about the illness spreading its way across the Continent that she would somehow manage to escape it. He knew the others he cared for would be safe from it, either through mutations or magical remedies , but Essi had no such thing to keep her safe. The illness had taken her and her once beautiful, pale skin was now flushed and covered with a dreadful rash. She had been running a fever for days, Jaskier could feel the heat emanating off her even from his place in the chair, and it showed no sign of breaking any time soon. He lay the damp cloth across her forehead again, hoping it would bring her some relief. Even that slight movement drained what little energy he had. He had lost track of exactly how long it had been since his arrival. People come into the room and bring food for him but he gives them little attention and only eats when he remembers that there is food there for him, so he cannot use that as an accurate way to keep track of time. He knows that perhaps he should sleep, that he would be much more use if he was less tired but as soon as he feels his eyelids droop, the words that he had read in the letter come barrelling back into his mind.

_I fear she does not have long._

The words had been repeated to him by the healer when he arrived and have haunted him ever since. So he does not sleep, for fear that he will miss one of her moments of lucidity, when her eyes clear and she looks upon him with her usual fondness. Those moments when they are able to share a brief conversation, where she will make jokes about his lack of talent and he will feign offence, where she will sing quietly, remembering her favourite tunes. He cannot miss them, and so he does not sleep. He also cannot sleep as he watches her slip back into the fevered haze, where her blue eyes fill with pain and confusion, as he listens to her ragged breaths and fitful coughing – how could he sleep when his dear Little Eye suffers so? So he tries to soothe her as she tosses and turns, running his fingers through her sweat-matted hair, sings to her as she cries out, feeds medicine down her throat in the hope that it will bring her some momentary relief.

There is of course a darker reason for his vigilance, that lurks at the back of his mind, one that he refuses to give any real voice to – that if he sleeps he may miss her final moments, that she will drift away alone and scared without a single witness. He cannot let that happen, she deserves better than that. She deserves so much better than all of this, he thinks bitterly. She is one of the brightest, sweetest most talented people he has ever met and he loves her fiercely. She would have gone on to do great things – _will,_ she _will_ go on to do great things, he chastises himself. There is a glimmer of hope within him that she will be okay, she will recover and go on to take the world by storm.

But deep down, he knows that it is nothing but childish hope. In all his adventures across the continent, he has what illness can do and how it cuts down anyone in its way. He has seen the trail it leaves behind in its wake and that there are very few that manage to escape it. There is a chance that Essi may get better, that she will fight it off but his hope dims as he watches her get weaker and weaker with every breath. The logical voice inside tells him that it will not be long, so he can hold one a little while longer for her sake.

His eyes are unbearably dry, and they are so itchy that he feels as though the only thing that could bring him relief is clawing them out from his head and his head swims if he turns a little too quickly. But he knows that his pain is nothing compared to the suffering of the girl in the bed beside him, so he soldiers on. He picks up her hand and holds it between both of his, pressing a kiss to her fingers summoning strength from inside himself and he starts to sing.

He will take a thousand sleepless nights, so long as she does not suffer alone, as long as she knows that she is not alone.

As long as she is not alone.


End file.
